


Out of Commission

by ElReyCiervo



Series: Breathing Is Easier With You [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Chronic Illness, Chronic Illness, Comfort, Gavin's cat, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kisses, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Overstimulation, Post Revolution, Post-Canon, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sensory Overload, android interfacing, cute cameo from Chris and Damian in the form of Damian's cute baby pictures, interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElReyCiervo/pseuds/ElReyCiervo
Summary: With Nines’s upgraded systems, one flaw that presented itself was that they sometimes worked against him, processing too information. Overstimulation/sensory overloads pop up.Connor and Nines share an intimate moment as Connor helps take care of Nines through one of his chronic episodes.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Series: Breathing Is Easier With You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734919
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Out of Commission

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human
> 
> Warnings: minor injury, overstimulation/sensory overload.
> 
> Words: 3079
> 
> Notes: Chronologically, this is set before the Quiet, Late Night Hours, so Connor and Nines do not share a place yet.

Nines was frustrated, to say the least.

Laying in his darkened room with Captain Fluff purring away on his chest, he was beyond frustrated with himself. It was noon on a workday, and he should be at the precinct rather than stuck in his bed. As much as he enjoyed the company of the large ball of fur that was on his chest, this was not one of the times he wanted to be home—even if the vibrations of the purring were grounding him and giving him something on which to focus.

Sensory overload episodes were not pleasant in any definition of the word.

He had been functioning earlier today with no problems. He had carpooled with Gavin to work, as usual, and had begun to do paperwork at his normal efficiency. He had powered through two-hundred documents even before the other officers had finished their second cups of coffee. He had seen Tina and Chris off as they had a case quickly take them away from the precinct, and had later went with Gavin to investigate a complaint of a belligerent android of their own.

“Let’s just hurry up and take this guy in,” Gavin had sighed as they exited the squad car. “I wanna be back in time for lunch.”

‘This guy’ had been an android, an AX400, who had been banging on the door of his former owners yelling threats. Apparently, he had wanted reparation for being kept before the revolution. (A fair point, but the violence had been unnecessary.) The man had been by his former owners’ house almost every day for increasing periods of time.

“Agreed.” The man had just been an AX400, so it should have been easy to bring him in since Nines was an RK900.

Well, it had been…until something had gone wrong.

When they had arrived at the house, they were met with the android in question in the act of shouting and pounding on the front door. The model had been tall but thin, with pale skin and plain blonde hair. He had been free of his LED. As they walked towards him, he had whirled around and begun explaining—or rather, yelling—his situation. Midway through, he had seen Nines’s LED, and that had suddenly amped up his excitement. He had pleaded with them, saying that since Nines was an android then he should of course understand. That it should have been perfectly understandable that they give him money to pay for the crap he had to go through under their thumb.

The RK900 could not have understood his exact position. He had been activated after the revolution, after all. And, while he had stated understanding being a tool for the humans, that answer had not satisfied the AX400, James.

James had immediately fled.

Gavin and Nines had pursued the target through the maze of suburb streets and bushes. Gavin had begun to lag, but Nines had continued his original pace. It had not taken long to catch up with James. Nines’s pre-constructions had charted him the path with the highest probability of success. It would have worked: he would have jumped over a medium-sized hedge, grabbed James by the shoulders to pull him down, and then pin him with the motion of his jump, subduing him.

His preconstruction had not factored in James whirling around and slamming him in the head with a stone he had picked up from his former owners’ garden. Nines had not been able to dodge the blow as it had caught him mid-jump. The hit slammed into him hard on the cranium, scrambling his optical and auditory systems and leaving him dazed. He had not been aware of what had happened in the immediate moments that followed, but when he had been able to pull himself together for the most part, Gavin had subdued James and had him in android-proof cuffs.

“Shit, are you alright, man?” Gavin had asked as he walked the cuffed android to the back of the squad car. “You went down pretty heavy and your forehead’s bleeding.”

_Am I?_ A touch to his own forehead and the stinging that followed confirmed it. His systems were still reorienting, and the high input of sounds and visual information were distracting. He had not even realized he was losing thirium. “I am functioning adequately. Thank you for your concern. No damage to my processor has occurred, and my self-healing program will close this wound by the time I am done cleaning up at the precinct.”

The continuous input of extra audio-visual information had not been worth mentioning.

That had been until it had become a problem.

On the way back to the precinct, he had begun to be overwhelmed by the data he had been receiving. The blow to his cranium had, in actuality, jammed his systems to keep processing data. His systems and programming as an RK900 were more advanced than those of an RK800’s, so he was able to hear and see to a much greater detail. Now, however, those advancements had been working against him. By the time they had arrived at the precinct, his stress levels had spiked into the 80s as he had been hunched over in the passenger seat. Everything—the sounds of James in the back, the cars, the honking, people shuffling around—had been simply too much. The light of the sun and the artificial lights of the vehicle had been seared into his optics, and if he had been a human, he might have been sick with all the sensory information.

To his relief, Gavin had understood what to do as this had not been the first time Nines had been in a situation like this. He had been quick to get James out of the car and into the precinct. Nines had not been able to focus on much of anything other than hunching over further and holding his head. There had been too much data on his HUD and too many sounds and too much light. Before he had known how much time had passed, Gavin returned, shutting the door as gently as he could behind him.

“I’m gonna take you home. I told Fowler what happened, and he said to take the rest of the day off.”

Nines had not been able to speak, but a small nod had been sufficient enough.

The drive to their shared apartment had been quick, and Nines had suspected that Gavin had sped more than he should have, When they got to the apartment, Nines had almost immediately closed his blinds, drew the curtains shut, and collapsed onto the bed in his room. He then pulled out his black noise-cancelling headphones and yanked them over his ears. He had simply laid there without moving for a moment, trying to reorient himself. It had been harder than expected. Because of the headphones over his ears, he had not been able to hear what Gavin had been doing. He had, however, received a message on his HUD from the Detective:

[Sending Connor to check on u. Gtg back to precinct. Don’t worry about anything,] it had read.

…Great.

So here he was, laying in his room trying to recover. His optics were closed, but he knew his room was quite dark thanks to the shut curtains. His noise-cancelling headphones blocked all sounds around him, thank rA9. He was not sure he could take any audio input right now. His cranium felt like it was both in a vice and separate from his body, the sense of floating a very human one that was making him uncomfortable. Lines of code were running at jumbled lengths and speeds due to his systems trying to recalibrate and reorient themselves. He took a deep breath. Although breathing worked slightly different for androids, it allowed him to fortify and brace himself; calm himself and attempt to aid his system overload.

Captain Fluff purred harder, like an engine sitting on his chest. He could not hear the purring, but the vibrations were pleasant and gave him something on which to focus. He ran his hand through the cat’s long fur. It was soft.

He hated this.

He hated having episodes like this.

He hated not being able to function at full capacity.

He was made to be more than this. His entire build was a feat of advancement: a military-grade being that possessed sophisticated systems. His systems were meant to be resistant to interference and damage, resilient against both physical and internal threats. _But a damn rock of all things made my own systems work against me_ , he thought with a bitter undercurrent.

To borrow Gavin’s language, a _fucking_ rock.

What worth was he if he could not rely on his own body? What use could he be if he could not function like he was made to? A heaviness settled upon him that had nothing to do with Captain Fluff on his chest. This was not the first sensory overload he has had, and while he knew it would not be the last one, he was worried about their frequency and intensity. He had a feeling that they may only get worse in the future the longer he was activated, and that would directly impact his worth. Being obsolete meant he was worth nothing. He couldn’t—

— _concern, care, presence, concern—_ He was broken out of his thoughts by a ping before a message came in:

[Incoming message from: _RK800 313-248-317-51_Connor_ ]

[Accept | Deny]

[ **Accept** | Deny]

_[I wanted to send you a message before I entered without warning,]_ Connor informed him. _[Gavin lent me a key as he didn’t want me to, and I quote, “break into his damn apartment like some kind of criminal.”]_ There was a pause before he continued, _[I am coming in. Are you in your room?]_

_[…Yes.]_

He was hesitant for Connor to see him. Although, on any other day, he would have loved to see him and spend time with him, he did not like when he saw him like this. Logically, it made no sense as Connor _had_ seen him like this before, but he was going to blame deviancy for feeling like this. _Deviancy makes everything complicated and nonsensical_.

From the shifting of Captain Fluff on his chest, he knew that Connor had entered his room. He felt the cat pause, most likely receiving scritches, before she plopped off his chest and on his side under his arm.

_[May I touch you, or should I refrain?]_

Nines’s lips twitched upward at the question. Typical of the other man, considerate as always. _[Yes, you may. Physical stimulation has actually been helping me.]_

Eyes still closed, he felt the bed dip on his left side as Connor sat down next to him. Careful hands on his shoulders and under his back prompted him to sit up slightly, and Connor slipped to rest behind him. His predecessor gently laid Nines’s head onto his lap before placing his hands, light and tender, on his face. His thumbs caressed his cheeks and the rest of his fingers cupped his jaw. Nines allowed the synthskin from his cheeks to fade away.

[Interface Request: _RK800 313-248-317-51_Connor_ ]

[Accept | Deny]

[ **Accept** | Deny]

Through the interface, the barrier between the two of them melted away, the connection flowing into him like a river. Even stronger than the ping, the interface made him feel Connor’s concern and care and love in a more amplified sense. He felt love from Connor seep into his own coding, and in return he sent his own love into Connor. He projected thankfulness and joy, but he could not help the tiredness and a bit of pain that happened to leak out. He did not want Connor to experience his overstimulation to any degree, but from the fact that Connor had not pulled away from the interface, the other android did not seem to mind.

_[The interface buffers the feelings, so it is not as intense for me,]_ Connor pacified.

Nines reached up and laid his hands on Connor’s whose were still on his cheeks. He rubbed his fingers over Connor’s own. The feeling of the faint creases of the buildlines on his hands were something physical on which to focus. _[Still, that does not mean I want you to feel poorly.]_

Quick instances of exasperation and, oddly, fondness flitted on the lightest levels of the interface. _[And I can say the same to you. I know that if I were in your position, you would do the same for me.]_

_[That is not the point.]_

_[It very much it,]_ was Connor’s smug rebuttal.

Nines did not answer, but rather pressed his body closer to the other. He felt _warmth-comfort-closeness-joy_. He continued to keep his eyes closed as he still did not trust his optics to filter visual information as the should. Same thing for the headphones. If he were to be honest, he believed he could have fallen into stasis right here and now, but he wanted to stay online to keep speaking to Connor.

Connor must have caught the tail-end of a string of tired code that ghosted through the interface. _[I don’t mind if you rest. I’m off duty until tomorrow morning, so I can stay a while.]_

_Gratitude-comfort-warmth. [Thank you for your offer to stay. I may slip into stasis in a bit. Before that, however, tell me about your day.]_ It was never a boring day in the precinct, so he was 99.8% sure that something must have happened. With that on his mind, he lifted one of Connor’s hands with his own and laid a kiss across his knuckles. Under his lips, he felt Connor’s synthskin fade from his knuckles, and in turn, he let the chassis of his mouth and the rest of his jaw be exposed. He kissed the other’s knuckles again. This time, without the barrier of their synthskin, a pleasant shiver was shared at the feeling. It was close and intimate—Nines could have laid there for hours and just lazily kissed just his hands (not to mention the rest of him), but those were desires for another time. _[How are you, truly?]_

_[Other than the clear rarity of me being your and **Gavin’s** apartment,]_ he sounded wry, _[it was normal. Well, normal for our precinct at least. Tina did take some adorable pictures of Damian when Shania Miller came to visit with him.]_

Of all the babies that Nines had interacted with, granted that the number was a grand total of three in his short life so far, Damian Miller was the most well-behaved child he had come across. And, dare he say, simply adorable. Nines would deactivate for Damian. _[If you do not show me the photos, I will cease speaking to you, Eights,]_ he threatened, though there was no heat behind it.

_[Of **course** ,]_ the amusement was evident in the code behind Connor’s reply. In less than a second, these photos were shared with him. The first was Chris holding Damian, who was dressed in a pastel yellow set of overalls with a white shirt and the same tone of pastel yellow bunny ears resting in the tight little curls of his hair. _[Apparently, he had refused to leave the house without the rabbit ear headband. Shania told us he was very adamant on being a bunny.]_

Nines would not coo out loud, but it bled through the interface. He didn’t have to put up a front with Connor. He reiterated, this time to Connor directly, _[I would **deactivate** for Damian.]_

Connor’s laugh was such a delight to his ears. _[Nines, no.]_

_[Nines, yes,]_ he said. _[Show me the other pictures, please.]_

_Delight-humor-fondness_. His predecessor lifted one of the hands that were connected, the one that Nines had previously kissed, and kissed Nines’s buildlines that connected his fingers with to his hands. Three more images were shared through the interface, all backed with feelings of lightness, brightness, and happiness. The second image that he saw was of Damian climbing up Chris’s arms to try and play with communicator on Chris’s shoulder. Chris looked highly amused, a bright smile on his face as he prevented his son from babbling toddler noises to dispatch through the communicator. Damian had a great amount of concentration of his face.

The third image that was shared with him was of Connor, to no surprise, playing with Damian on his lap as he was seated at his desk. Connor looked quite happy amusing Damian with is hands. The image froze the movement of his predecessor lifting his hands in front of Damian’s face, synthskin half peeled away, the faint blue glow alighting Damian’s chubby cheeks and little hands. The boy was utterly fascinated with the disappearing act of Connor’s skin and the white of his plastimetal chassis.

During his analysis of the image, he felt the bubbling of sheepish laughter through the interface, so he lifted an eyebrow in question. _[Did something happen?]_

Even with his optics closed, he got the distinct impression that Connor was turning blue. _[I look silly…]_

Nines snorted. _[You look like you are enjoying yourself.]_

_[Still, it’s embarrassing.]_

_[It is embarrassing to entertain Damian?]_

_[No, but that’s not the point. I just don’t like much attention on me, is all. I had not realized Tina had taken this picture until she sent it to me.]_

Having his optics closed did not make for efficient eye rolling. _[Eights, my silly predecessor.]_

Nines was feeling quite a bit better than earlier, but still kept his optics shut and headphones on. For several hours, Connor and Nines continued to lay on his bed, lazily exchanging information—feelings, thoughts, emotions—through their shared interface. Connor’s presence helped him focus, allowed him to feel something other than exhaustion and overstimulation. Captain Fluff was completely content in her spot under his arm. Her purring was another nice sensation on which to focus. What was better, however, was the feeling of slow kisses he and Connor exchanged. The soft feeling of his dear Eight’s lips made him feel warm, and the pulses of love that were sent with each of them were like little bursts of glittery, cozy fireworks.

Nines may have not been able to perform like he was made to today, but whenever he was with Connor like this, he felt like he was okay.

He could just be Nines here with his Eights.

And that was okay.

* * *

Published: 5/20/20

I'm on both [**tumblr: elreyciervo**](https://elreyciervo.tumblr.com/) and [**twitter: el_rey_ciervo**](https://twitter.com/el_rey_ciervo), but I post a lot more dbh stuff (threads, ideas, etc) on my twitter! (I am also open for writing commissions if you like my stuff! Info on my twitter!)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: I wrote this as someone who has chronic illnesses that often make me limited on what I can and cannot do. Nines here has a chronic problem—can read like a chronic illness since it’s continuous—that is like chronic migraines and sensory overloads. Episode like this limit what he can do, and I wanted to express the same frustration I often feel with myself and my body through Nines and his body. 
> 
> A/N 2: Thank you to everyone who Kudo'd and favorited the last installment! And a special thanks to trash_heap, RefugeeofTumblr, Alphira, Kyu (mie_tachibana), and birdnerd for commenting on the last installment! I really loved reading what you all had to say <3


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